


Death is Not an Escape

by murderbreak



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Blood and Gore, Death, How Do I Tag, Killing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderbreak/pseuds/murderbreak
Summary: Sure, you can run.Doesn't mean you'll make it.





	1. Michael

**Author's Note:**

> had this idea in my head for awhile now, hope you all like it!

When he wakes up, Michael doesn't know where he is, what he's doing outside in this dark forest, or why it feels so familiar. All he knows is that his survival instincts are kicking in, and he knows he needs to be out of the open right now. Scrambling, he gets up, chest heaving as panic starts to set in. He's in danger. He is prey, and he's being hunted. 

 

He stays low to the ground, moving quick as he starts to wander the grounds. There's an old abandoned off to his right. With the moon shining high and bright, it gives his surroundings a sort of blue glow, something to admire if he had a moment to relax, to take his time and look around. But he knew that there would be no time for that, no time to admire the way that tree bent, or the gentle rustle of leaves that shone blue under the moon. There's no time. He needed to move. 

 

"Fuck," he hissed, pressing his back against his tree. His heartbeat picked up, pounding heavy in his ears. Something felt wrong. The rustling was too loud, it wasn't natural. 

 

Someone was coming. 

 

He ducked as close to the ground as he could manage it, hiding in the shadows as his heartbeat got louder, louder still, and he fought hard to keep from hyperventilating. Any bad movement, one wrong breath, and he'd be done for. He didn't know why he knew that, just knew that he needed to keep quiet. 

 

Just as quick as it had come, his heartbeat was fading to normal, and the rustling was drifting off into the distance. He was safe. For the time being. 

 

He started moving again, crouching as he moved. He kept his eyes peeled, looking for anything that could get him out of here. He was right smack in the middle of dangerous territory, and it's potential he could get got at any moment. 

 

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he found himself heading for a generator. "The fuck you doing out here," he mumbled, kneeling next to the generator.  _ It's gonna get you outta here _ , he thought, but how did he know? How could he be so sure that, if he fixed this generator, he'd be on his way to safety? It felt familiar, placing his hands on the generator, starting up on fixing it. It felt like he's done this plenty of times already. This crazy sense of deja vu is seriously killing him. 

 

It took ten minutes, probably less - either way, too goddamn long to stay put in one place. But the generator went up,  a loud crying signal ringing throughout the night, and only one thought came to Michael’s head -  _ run _ . He got up, pushing himself off the ground and breaking into a sprint. He needed to get out of the light and away from the generator. He needed to get out of there, and he needed to go fast. 

 

He was running, looking for somewhere to duck down, lay low and catch his breath. It would be hard here; the only real place to hide out would be the tower in the middle of the opening, and even then, it was too out there, too seemingly safe for him to trust. He goes there, he dies. He knows that. 

 

He was so busy with acknowledging to not go to the house, that he didn’t notice the obstacle right in front of him. “Fuck!” he yelled, using his hands to brace his fall as he crashed to the ground. Not good. Falling is way too cliche of a horror movie move, and typically means that you’re not going to survive. He could be royally fucked. 

 

“Boi?” 

 

Holy shit.

 

“Gavin?” Michael whispered, turning over from his place on the ground and finding his best friend right there on the ground with him. “Boi, what the fuck are you doing out here in the open? You need to hide!” 

 

“I wish I could, but…” Gavin’s voice trailed off, and he looked down. Michael followed his eyes down to his legs, where his ankle was caught in a bear trap. Blood dribbled down the side, and as Michael looked back up to his face again he finally noticed how pale he was. He was looked as afraid as Michael felt, and he had to wonder if, caught here in the trap like an animal, if he was more afraid. 

 

“Shit, Gav,” Michael hissed, immediately climbing over Gavin and scooting towards his leg. He gripped the bear trap, hissing as he struggled to break it open and free his friend. “I’m gonna get you outta here, we’re gonna get outta here,” he repeated, trying to keep Gavin calm as he broke open the trap. “C’mon, c’mon boi, we’re outta here.” Michael took Gavin’s arm and looped it over his shoulders, carrying him off to the side as quick as he could manage it. He went as far off to the side as he could, trying to hush Gavin of his whimpers before bringing him to a tree. He wouldn’t be able to drag Gavin around and make it out alive, not the both of them. “I have to leave you here, but I’m gonna get us out of here too. We’re gonna make it boi, I’m gonna come back.” A loud cry rang through the air. Another generator? A scream? “Don’t go.”

 

“I got you boi,” Gavin said, trying to smile through the obvious pain he was in. Michael nodded, hating himself as he got up and turned away from Gavin, making his way into the woods again and hoping that Gavin listened to him. He panted as he jogged, trying to move as fast as he could book it while being sly, subtle. He can’t get caught, for both his and Gavin’s sake.

 

He found another generator, and without missing a beat, he kneeled next to the generator and began working on it. He was sweating from the pressure, his and Gavin’s lives depended on him making this work. He had to make this work. “Come on, come on….” The genny blew, causing sparks to fly around him and drawing out a loud curse. He immediately set back to work again, working quick and precise to make the generator work. He was working so hard that he barely noticed that the heartbeat pounding in his ears wasn’t from the nerves, but from the fact that danger was close. It was almost too close of a call before he dodged a swipe, and he screamed, falling to the ground before trying hard to scramble up to run. He had to get away. 

 

“Fuck off you crazy fuck!” he cried, running out and away from the lunatic behind him. He turned for a moment and realized what a mistake it was as he was slashed across the stomach. Michael cried out, and soon after, a piercing, metallic sound rang through the air. Michael clutched his stomach, blood oozing through his fingers, and he stumbled and gasped and panted, running towards the direction of the noise, running to his safety. He dodged this way and that, weaving in and out of trees, vaulting over a fallen pallet, adrenaline pushing him on and on until the pounding in his ears was from the blood rushing due to his panic and a little less of danger. He was… He could make it.

 

The end was in sight, the exit gate that would lead to… Fuck it, who cares? He was barely making it out. He was  _ lucky _ . He huffed and lurched forward, keeping his eyes open, trying to be sure that the killer didn’t lurk too close. As he stopped just inside the gate, turning to look back, he found he wasn’t the object of the killer’s desire anymore. Some other soul was on his list. Someone like…

  
“Gavin….” Michael felt his stomach fall, blood draining from his face not because of the cut, but because of fear. He may never see him again. But… He just barely made it, if he went back? Who knows what could happen to him? To them? They’d be screwed if he went back in there. “Fuck… Gavin, fuck I’m sorry,” he whispered to no one, the wind taking his words away and letting them go unnoticed. “Fuck you, you psychopathic fuck!” he yelled louder, and it echoed across the forest as Michael made his way into the fog, cursing himself the rest of the way and apologizing to the friend he may never see again.


	2. Gavin

_Run_.

 

 _Run faster_   _!_

 

 _Run fast you bloody twat_ _!_

 

Gavin could barely catch his breath as he bolted across the dark land, looking this way and that, his mind racing faster than his heart. Somehow that seemed impossible in that moment. He was scared, terrified even, pushing his body to the limit and running on pure adrenaline as he scrambled across the land. It felt like his heart was going to beat its way out of his rib cage, break free and break into a sprint itself. But somehow, his brain was beating both him and his heart in the race, looking at places to hide, trying to find out where this damn place was, if anyone else was here, if anyone else was looking for him.

 

Oh!

 

He nearly stumbled to a halt as he found a generator, and saw someone kneeling next to it. He made his way over, keeping his eye out for something terrible before kneeling next to the generator. “Hey!” he whispered to the person, edging closer to them. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but just barely. He could make out the form, the broad shoulders… “Lil’ J?” he whispered, catching the other’s attention and causing their head to turn.

 

“Gav? Holy shit, hey,” Jeremy said, looking almost relieved that it was Gavin. He looked tired, paler, less happy than Gavin remembered seeing him. He looked like he’d seen something awful.

 

“You alright?” Gavin asked, worried for his friend.

 

Jeremy just shook it off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Mind helping me out here? I’m almost finished.” Gavin just nodded, lending Jeremy his hands as the pair got to work on the generator. Even here, with a friend, Gavin felt like he was in danger. He felt like there was something wrong, and he needed to be anywhere but where he was.

 

Apparently Jeremy sensed it too, because his head perked up, and fear colored his eyes. “Jeremy?” Gavin asked, soft, quiet, scared to be heard.

 

“We need to go,” Jeremy said, standing. “Now. Gavin!” The Brit scrambled up to his feet, breaking into a sprint behind Jeremy. He could hear the danger now, the pounding of his blood in his ears, his chest hurting from the workout he never prepared for. Something was behind them.

 

“Fuck!” Jeremy hissed, and Gavin looked at him, scared of what was to come. Jeremy looked at him, something like regret in his eye, and Gavin felt more fear than ever. “I’m sorry, Gav, this is for you.”

 

“Lil J---agh!”

 

Jeremy had shoved him into a tall patch of grass, effectively hiding him from… whatever was behind them. It sounded…. It was like a person, or something that was intelligent enough to track the pair down. Gavin laid there, confusion and fear running through his system. Jeremy just…. He sacrificed himself, basically, to save Gavin.

 

Gavin couldn’t let him down by just laying here.

 

He got up, fear making him move again, and he’d just started running when pain shot up his left leg, causing the man to cry out in pain just as the loud sound of something else rang through the air. Gavin fell to the ground again, his hands just barely catching him in time before he his the ground with an ‘oof!’. He looked to the ground near his leg, finding…. Oh bloody Christ that was a _bear trap_ ! He’d gotten himself snagged in a _bear trap_!

 

He’d hopped out of danger’s way just to land in harm’s lane.

 

His shaky hand reached down, touching the area where the trap caught him, and as his hand came back, he wasn’t sure why he was surprised to see the bright red of his blood coating his fingers. He started to panic, looking this way and that. What was he looking for? Help? The danger? He was a trapped animal, and anything could be a threat.

 

Whatever it was had found him, tripping over him in the process and landing with a loud curse next to him. Gavin groaned a little, looking over to the form out of curiosity, and when he saw who it was he was relieved. “Boi?” he asked, forgetting the pain, grateful that it was his friend and not something else out there.

 

“Gavin?” Michael whispered, turning over from his place on the ground and finding his best friend right there on the ground with him. “Boi, what the fuck are you doing out here in the open? You need to hide!”

 

Gavin moved, just barely, before he hissed out in pain. “I wish I could, but….” Gavin’s eyes trailed down to his caught and bleeding leg, and he looked back up at Michael, looking almost sheepish that he’d been stupid enough to get caught in a trap.

 

“Shit, Gav,” Michael hissed, and Gavin watched as his best friend immediately crawled towards his leg. He felt Michael working on his trap, and if he moved it the wrong way, Gavin couldn’t help but whimper in pain. “I’m gonna get you outta here, we’re gonna get outta here,” Michael told him, and Gavin, as much faith as he had in his best friend, his best boi, he wasn’t sure how much faith he had in that statement. But he couldn’t tell Michael that. Instead he focused on keeping quiet as Michael freed him, and he panted from the pain before Michael took his arm and slung it over his shoulder. C’mon, c’mon boi, we’re outta here,” Michael told him, carrying him off towards the side where the trees were. Gavin whimpered whenever there was pressure on his bad leg, and Michael tried to hush him.

 

Finally they got to a tree, and with a grunt from them both Gavin was set down with his back against a tree. He was panting, blood dribbling from his leg as the open wound wet the grass around it with blood. “I have to leave you here, but I’m gonna get us out of here too. We’re gonna make it boi, I’m gonna come back,” Michael said. A loud sound rang through the air around them. Gavin couldn’t tell what it was. “Don’t go.”

 

“I got you, boi,” Gavin said, giving Michael his best attempt of a smile. It looked stupid, and probably not even like a smile at all, but it was worth the attempt. Michael looked sad to leave him, but they both knew that it needed to be done.

 

Michael left, and Gavin was alone with his injured leg and heavy breathing. It felt too quiet, here in the night. There was hardly any wind, and every twig breaking felt like danger was coming too close. He should try and move, get to a better hiding spot, but he told Michael he’d stay and wait for him here. He couldn’t let his boi down.

 

Just then, Gavin’s heartbeat picked up, his body sensing danger before he really knew what it is. He pressed up back against the tree, heartbeat pounding hard, and his breathing was labored and hard. Then he heard it; there was rustling, somewhere behind him. It couldn’t have been Michael… Not yet. Not already. Jeremy…? Gavin turned, just barely peeking around the tree, trying hard to not get caught, even if it was a friend. He couldn’t take that risk.

 

Too bad he didn’t see the risk coming right at him.

 

It was quick, kinda. It hurt at first, when the first swing came. He wasn’t exactly sure what hit him, something… Something very hard. He knew that just from the crunch of his skull. Fascinating, that it could make such a sound. He didn’t get to hear the rest of it though. He was dead by the second swing.

 

The third one was just for overkill.


	3. Jeremy

At least he knew he was fast. Being a touch shorter can help with that, and for once his height made him thankful. It was dangerous enough, being in the middle of the house, but to be out in the open with no one around and his heartbeat going crazy, threatening to beat out of his chest, it was going to pay off to be quick on his feet. 

 

Hide, work, hide, get the hell out of there. That’s the plan and he was damn well going to stick to it. 

 

He finished off his first generator, the loud sound of the machine turning on giving away his position, and he looked around to be certain of no danger. His heartbeat beat with fear, not danger, so surely he’d be safe. He vaulted out the window of the house and into the dark night, landing with a soft huff, before starting to creep out into the dark. He needed to keep an eye out -- for what, he wasn’t too certain. Danger? Another generator? Whatever came first, he supposed. He just wanted to get out of here, and preferably, he’d like to leave alive and in one piece. But that’s just preference. 

 

He snuck from tree to tree, keeping his eyes and ears open for whatever it might be that came after him. He’d stop from time to time, peek around the corner in hopes nothing was in front of him, and with every stop came a double check of his surroundings before he’d move on. He had to keep moving. Stopping meant death. Death did not sound great.

 

Neither did that scream that just rang out through the air. It made Jeremy go pale and sutter in his steps. He didn’t want to imagine the voice behind that cry of terror. He pushed onward, swallowing the fear, and the nearly overwhelming sense of dread made a home in the pit of his stomach. This was bad.

 

He was moving and moving until he found a generator, and immediately he crossed over to it. He hadn’t heard the running of a genny for a while, and he knew the key to survival was getting those babies on. He kneeled next to it and began his work, stopping every few minutes to check his surroundings. He needed to work fast, but he needed to be careful. One wrong twitch of the finger and this could give him away. 

 

He was well into getting this generator finished when a voice whispered to him. He paused for a minute, unsure if it was friend or foe or make believe, but once the voice spoke again, he took note of the British accent. “Gav? Holy shit, hey,” Jeremy said, looking almost relieved that it was his friend. Even with this lovely reunion, he needed to keep working. He could feel the cold sweat on his brow as he took a look around.

“You alright?” Gavin asked.

 

Jeremy just shook it off the obvious worry, nodding his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Mind helping me out here? I’m almost finished.” Gavin nodded at him, and together they got back to work on the generator. Sadly, it wasn’t too long before Jeremy’s heartbeat picked up, and in the back of his mind he knew that danger was nearby. 

 

“Jeremy?” Gavin asked softly, voice just barely above a whisper.

 

“We need to go.” Jeremy stood up, looking this way and that. “Now. Gavin!” Jeremy waited just for Gavin to scramble to his feet before the pair were off, running from the danger behind them. If this were a horror movie, there would be a thrilling music sequence playing. 

 

Danger was getting too close.

 

“Fuck!” Jeremy hissed, pushing himself further. He knew that, if they kept running together, whatever that…  _ thing _ was would get the both of them. They both needed to stay alive, and with Gavin stumbling…. There’s only one thing that Jeremy could do. He looked at Gavin, regret filling him. He needed to save his friend. “I’m sorry Gav, this is for you.”  Jeremy just barely heard Gavin begin to question him before Jeremy shoved him into a small area of long grass, hiding him just in time before Jeremy broke into a hard sprint. 

 

“Come on after me you bitch!” he yelled, turning his head and immediately wishing he hadn’t. It made him nearly stutter in his steps as he saw the threat behind him, and it nearly cost him as he heard the obvious  _ whoosh _ of something being swung. His lungs were starting to burn from the running, but he needed to go. His whole life was depending on this. 

 

He yelled out in pain as another swipe came, landing on his shoulder, and Jeremy could feel the deep cut in his arm. He held it tightly to his side as he ran, panting and moving as fast as he could. He ducked this way and that, turning around every corner he could find in his attempt to get away.

 

Soon enough, his heartbeat was slowing, and the blood rushing in his ears died down. He ducked behind a group of trees in another long grassed area, holding his breath, hoping the threat had passed and he could take just a moment to breathe. He looked around, not finding anything that could do him harm, and with a breath of relief he leaned back against the tree. He wanted to cry, almost. He hoped his plan for Gavin worked out, and that he was safe. Jeremy would hate himself if he knew Gavin died because of him.

 

The man was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely registered that another friend had found him, and once a hand touched his injured shoulder he jumped with a gasp, panic flooding through him. “Whoa, hey!” Jack whispered, crouching down next to Jeremy. “It’s me, just me. You’re safe, cool?”

 

“Fuck, you couldn’t have said something?” Jeremy murmured back. 

 

“Right, my bad. Are you hurt?” Jack asked, looking at Jeremy’s arm in worry. “Let me see it. I found this First-Aid kit in a chest. I could patch you up.”

 

“That’d be great, thank you.” Jeremy pulled his arm from his shirt and exposed the ugly wound to Jack, who made a face.

 

“Yeah, definitely got you good. You shouldn’t use this arm, or at least don’t put it through too much stress. Bleed anymore and you could be knocked unconscious.”

 

“Something tells me that could be bad in this kinda situation,” Jeremy said, and Jack nodded, opening up the kit.

 

“I think there was a needle and thread in here, and some bandages I could wrap around your shoulder. It’s gonna hurt, and it’s gonna hurt a fuck ton. Ready?” Jeremy nodded, placing his other hand to his mouth to cover it. He could hear Jack shuffling a bit behind him, and he took in a breath to brace himself before he felt the prick of the needle slide in. He did calming breaths, in and out nice and slow as Jack stitched him up. “Have you seen anyone else?” Jack asked, trying to get Jeremy to focus on anything else.

 

“Gavin, a little back…. I pushed him down in an attempt to save him from…. Fuck, whatever. I --  _ shit _ \-- hope he’s still alive….” Jeremy felt the regret flood through him again. He hated that he had to do that to Gavin, to his friend, but he had the best intentions.

 

“I’m sure he’s alright, knowing him he’s scampered his way outta here,” Jack said. “Guy’s got brains.”

 

“Yeah….”

 

Jeremy hissed again, and Jack shushed him, moving quick but precise. “Almost finished…. We’re gonna have to split after this, for safety,” Jack said softly. 

 

“I know.”

 

Finally Jack finished the stitching, and within a few more minutes, the man had bandaged up Jeremy’s shoulder. “Remember, don’t stress it more than you need, those stitches won’t hold forever.” Jeremy nodded, and as the two stood together, they looked at one another and nodded, solemn. This could be the last time they see one another.

 

“I saw a generator, on my way over,” Jack added. “Back by another cluster of trees behind you. I’m gonna see if I can find anyone else and get them outta here.” Jeremy nodded, and as Jack looked at him he could see the fear in his eyes. “Be careful.”

 

“You too.”

 

Jeremy was gone again as the pair split up, moving quickly through the grass as he headed in the direction Jack had told him he’d seen the generator. It wasn’t too long before he found it, half-fixed and just begging for someone to come and push it through the finish line. Jeremy looked around, keeping his injured arm to his side. It throbbed and ached, and he knew it would be bleeding through the bandage already. But adrenaline and fear pushed him forward. He needed to keep a level head and make it through this…. Whatever it is.

 

He kneeled down next to the machine and started working, concentrating hard, quick movements of his fingers fixing up the generator in next to no time. The loud call of the machine went out, signaling it’s fix, and Jeremy heard a loud click, like something being unlocked. He looked to his left, and just beyond the trees he could find a large door, with a switch next to it.

 

That’s his ticket out of here.

 

Quick as he could, Jeremy sprinted for the door, panting heavily as the bittersweet taste of escape lingered in the back of his throat. He threw open the switch door and slammed the lever down, looking this way and that to be sure he was alone, that he’d make it out of here. It took forever, it seemed, before the door finally opened, and with a heavy heart, Jeremy left his friends behind. 


	4. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you got an intsy bit of problem with the mention of gore, it happens here

_ Run, hide, run, hold your breath, run, hope. _

 

That’s all Jack could think about, all he really wanted to think about as he ran through the dark forest area, looking this way and that as terrified thoughts tried to squirm their way in between the thoughts that were huddled together out of fear. He couldn’t afford to think about anything more or anything less than those same six thoughts. 

 

Jack hasn’t seen anyone else, and he’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. As far as he knows, he’s the only person there. It felt familiar, to be this way, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it and he wasn’t too sure if he had the time to. 

 

Jack ducked into the house then, pressing against walls and taking a step at a time as he slid further and further into the abandoned building. His heartbeat was relatively normal, save for the resting anxiety level. As he inched further inside, he found himself an open hole in the floor with stairs leading downwards. A hiding place? Safety?

 

There’s only one way to find out.

 

Looking both ways like he was crossing a street, Jack made his way across the room and to the floor opening, taking the stairs one at a time, soft and slow as he descended. The room was wide and open at the bottom, and there was something of a red glow to it, like the moon outside had been bathed in blood. 

 

It was a shame he didn’t know the half of it. 

 

There was something in the middle there, like a stand, a wooden structure meant to hold something up. It looked like there was already something there, strung up for the room’s occupants to see, and as Jack was fully exposed to the room, a disgusting smell of copper and something even more foul filled his nose and almost made him throw up at the foot of the stairs. He grabbed his shirt collar and tugged it over his nose, pressing forward into the room, towards the structure in the middle. Something was there, he could see the silhouette of it in the dim room.

 

He inched closer and closer to the structure, to whatever was hanging from it, and as soon as he was close enough, he wished he’d never wondered at all. That wasn’t an object hanging there, that was…. “Geoff?” Jack whispered in horror, eyes wide and pricking with tears as he looked over his friend. 

 

Or… What used to be his friend.

 

Geoff hung there on a hook, driven through his shoulder, blood still oozing from the wound. He was covered in blood, and that could only be explained by the fact that his guts and insides were dangling from where his stomach was supposed to be. A few escaped, coiled up on the floor in a pool of red. That explained the harsh smell, and Jack could barely take it as he turned over and threw up the contents of his stomach. It was hard, to see someone he knew and loved so dearly like… like this. Whatever state you could call that.

 

Wiping his mouth and his eyes, Jack explored the room, trying to keep his gaze away from the center. He kept his shirt over his nose, trying to breathe through his mouth and keep the smell of gore and blood out of his nose. He found a chest over in the corner, and he rushed over to it, throwing the lid open and reaching his hand inside. He looked around inside the chest, and his hand came in contact with a box. He pulled it out, and in the dim red glow, he could see that it was a first aid kit. This could come in handy, he could feel it.

 

Jack has never ran out of a room so fast in his life.

 

He left that horrid place, thinking hard of anything but the image of his friend hanging there with his insides out. Someone… something had done that out of malicious intent. It knew what it was doing.  _ They _ knew what they were doing. 

 

Something was coming after them.

 

As he was moving, Jack saw a generator hidden next to a cluster of trees, and just as he looked away from the machine, he saw someone duck behind a trio of trees, an easy way to hide if no one is paying enough attention. That could either be serious relief hiding behind those trees, or serious trouble. Only one way to find out, really. Jack made his way over to the trees, keeping as quiet as he could manage to be, and sneaking behind the trees he nearly let out a cry of relief. He gently touched a hand to Jeremy’s shoulder, only to be met with a gasp and a jump of fright. “Whoa, hey!” Jack whispered to him. “It’s me, just me. You’re cool.”

 

“Fuck, you couldn’t have said anything?” Jeremy whispered in return, turning towards Jack.

 

Jack sighed softly. “Right, my bad,” he agreed. He glanced at Jeremy’s shoulder and frowned then. “Are you hurt?” He hardly waited for an answer. “Let me see it. I picked up this First-Aid kit from a chest. I could patch you up.” 

 

“That’d be great, thank you,” Jeremy said. Jack watched as Jeremy pulled his arm from his sleeve and exposed the ugly wound to him, causing the man to make a face.

 

“ Yeah, definitely got you good. You shouldn’t use this arm, or at least don’t put it through too much stress. Bleed anymore and you could be knocked unconscious.”

“Something tells me that could be bad in this kinda situation,” Jeremy said, and Jack nodded, opening up the kit.

 

“I think there was a needle and thread in here, and some bandages I could wrap around your shoulder. It’s gonna hurt, and it’s gonna hurt a fuck ton. Ready?” Jeremy nodded, placing his other hand to his mouth to cover it. Jack rustled around in the kit, finding the needle, thread, and bandages he would need for this, and he heard as Jeremy took in a breath to brace himself as Jack slid the needle into his skin. Jack felt bad, having to do this on Jeremy, but if something happened to that cut before Jeremy got out of here, it’d end badly. “Have you seen anyone else?” Jack asked, trying to get Jeremy to focus on anything else.

 

“Gavin, a little back…. I pushed him down in an attempt to save him from…. Fuck, whatever. I -- shit -- hope he’s still alive….” Jack could hear the regret in his tone. He knew Jeremy didn’t really want to do what he did, but they knew that he had to.

 

“I’m sure he’s alright, knowing him he’s scampered his way outta here,” Jack said. “Guy’s got brains.”

“Yeah….”

 

Jeremy hissed as Jack stitched him up, and Jack shushed him, moving quick but precise. “Almost finished…. We’re gonna have to split after this, for safety,” Jack said softly.

“I know.”

 

Finally, Jack finished his stitching, grabbing the roll of bandages and wrapping it around Jeremy’s shoulder. Something to keep outside substances from getting in and infecting it. “Remember, don’t stress it more than you need, those stitches won’t hold forever.” Jack saw Jeremy nod as he started to place the items back into the kit before the pair stood up together and nodded solemnly. Something about it felt final.

 

“I saw a generator, on my way over,” Jack said to his friend. “Back by another cluster of trees behind you. I’m gonna see if I can find anyone else and get them outta here.” As Jack watched Jeremy, he saw the fear in his eye, and instantly, he felt fear, too. Fear they wouldn’t make it, fear they won’t see the light of day or one another ever again. “Be careful.”

 

“You too.”

 

Jack watched as Jeremy took off into the night. He stood there for a moment, just watching him go, and in his gut he felt like this would be the last time he would ever see Jeremy again. He hoped he’d make it out alive. The man finally went in his own direction, figuring there had to be others there too. He’s seen Jeremy and… Geoff… and Jeremy mentioned Gavin awhile ago. Surely that meant everyone was here. They can’t be the only ones left alive.

 

Alive… God, if he’d found Geoff sooner, would he be alive too? Would they be working together? Fighting off whatever this damn thing was? Survivor’s guilt was a tough thing to fight, and Jack couldn’t afford to let it take him over now, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but think that, if he’d been there sooner, maybe he could have saved Geoff. 

 

Jack was so blinded by his guilt that he didn’t see his threat coming until it had him by the throat. It held onto him tightly, and Jack tried hard to struggle. He clawed at the hand around his throat, trying to pull it away as he felt it crushing his windpipe. The edges of his vision were starting to go black, and as he felt the blood start to bubble at the back of his throat, Jack caught sight of the person terrorizing him and his friends. His eyes widened in fear, horror. 

  
Every ounce of hope he had left was crushed along with his esophagus. 


	5. Geoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the lack of updating!!! But hey, better late than never!

This wasn’t his prime environment. This was the exact opposite of where he excels, this typical bad luck nipping right at his heels while something else entirely waited in the shadows. Fear creeped into every crevice of his being, found a place to reside in every corner of his mind. His breath came fast and hard and his chest was starting to hurt, his lungs burning for the air that only temporarily occupied them before being evicted again.

 

He can feel death close on his ass.

 

Geoff hardly had luck. He seemed to find every twig to trip over, breathing too loud at the wrong moment, every step emitting some sort of sound that could risk his survival. Nothing he did felt right. Nothing he did could assure him that he was going to make it out alright, make it out alive, live to see daylight.

 

Until he came to that ratty old house. 

 

It was cover, shelter away from the scary shit outside. Every noise, every twitch, every movement set Geoff on edge. At least in here, he knew he had places to hide. He could cower all he wanted to, and maybe, just maybe, he could make it through the night.

 

He hurried his way inside, looking this way and that for hiding places. Everywhere seemed too obvious, or he couldn’t fit, or it just wasn’t enough. Every sound outside sent him running, moving for the next hideout place, cowering behind any solid surface he could think to. Geoff didn’t have a knack for this kinda thing. His survival instinct is to just hide and wait. He wasn’t good at scavenging, or running, or anything that could potentially become higher under the stress of survival. He hid. Geoff just hid. That’s his instinct.

 

And what better way to hide in the basement?

 

It would be out of the way, and it’s so stupid to go down there it’s brilliant. No one would come looking.

 

Geoff made his way down the stairs, the air immediately taking on that creepy feeling. It felt dank and dark, heavy. Something didn’t sit right, but Geoff just brushed it off as it being the situation he was stuck in. He chalked it up to fear and left it at that. He felt proud of himself in that moment, proud of his ingenious plan to hide out from all the crazy shit. No one would find him down here.

 

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Geoff stopped. 

 

What a grave mistake.

 

He stopped to take in the strange sight of the quadrant of hooks that sat in the middle of the wide basement. Four of them, sitting back to back with one another. This screamed bad for Geoff. This was a mistake. This was not some clever plan, this was just plain stupidity working its magic over Geoff, just like it always does. 

 

This was bad.

 

That only proved to be the case when the feeling of death washed over Geoff, making his blood freeze as his heart pounded hard in his ears. He didn’t need to turn around to know what was behind him.

 

It grabbed him by the back of the neck, drawing out a yelp as pain and surprise shot through him. He struggled, clawing at the hand holding his neck in a tight grip, but it was pointless. There wasn’t a way to weasel out of this one. 

 

“Let me go!” Geoff yelled, as if that would work. The grip just tightened, and it made Geoff squirm more. He was turned around then, and while the relief from the grip was nice, the pain came back tenfold. Geoff screamed out into the basement, the searing pain of the hook going through his shoulder almost too much for the man to take. He had tears in his eyes, and he gripped the hook to try and lift himself off, hoping the adrenaline would kick in and he would make it out of here.

 

How foolish a man can be in the face of death.

 

Geoff could barely see past the tears of pain in his eyes, the pain searing and rolling over his body in waves. He kept his grip on the hook in his shoulder, trying to hold himself up. The last thing he wanted was that thing ripping through his shoulder entirely. He looked down at the offender, and in the back of his mind, despite his persistence, he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this. He wasn’t going to make it. He took in the sight, of the freaky fucking mask, smiling at him. As if this was the time to smile, to be happy. This entire goddamn situation is the opposite of that creepy fucker’s mask.

 

“You never really did have guts,” a dark voice murmured, almost like it was recalling a thoughtful memory, the deep voice coming from behind the mask of his killer. It sounded twisted, distorted, like a monster was hiding behind the cover. 

 

Geoff didn’t exactly have much time to ponder it.

 

The pain was back tenfold as the killer swiped, opening up his abdomen and freeing his insides. Geoff screamed. He screamed because he was going to die, because he’s seeing things someone should never see while they’re alive, because this really was going to be how he goes. Instinctually, his hand tried to cover the wound, to keep it all inside, but there would be no use. Geoff’s guts were all over the floor. 

 

The killer chuckled darkly, a terrifying sound that mixed with the disturbing noise of blood dripping to the floor. The edges of his vision were starting to go dark, but Geoff could see enough. He saw when the killer lifted his mask, he saw the terrifying smile that put dread and fear into what was left of his system. “You…!” Geoff tried, but ended up hacking on his own blood in his throat. It flew out and speckled the killer’s face, making his smirk even more alarming. Geoff’s vision was quickly becoming blacker by the minute, darkening around the edges. First it was subtle, but now, choking on his own blood, it was coming fast. The end was here.

  
“Hm. Seems I was wrong. You do have guts after all.”


	6. Ryan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so y'all know, this is where a lot of the violence/gore comes in. be careful

Power surged through him. In ways, he felt strong, the weight in his hand familiar. He glanced down at the weapon, looking it over with a mixture of curiosity and adoration, like he was holding the hand of a long lost lover. It made him feel complete to hold it in his hand again, and as he raised his weapon, he touched it gently, a soft caress as he slid his thumb along the tool. It felt right. 

 

As he glanced up, he noticed the movement going inside the house just in front of him, and he couldn’t help but smirk, a crooked, evil looking smirk, one that could freeze anyone in their tracks. As he watched the figure disappear inside, he began to stalk, silent and deadly. Even with the weapon in his hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little empty. Something felt off, and as he saw the living soul of someone else, he knew just what it was. He knew what he was missing.

 

He stepped into the house, soft and silent, and he moved on through the home, taking each step at a time, trying not to scare off his prey. He’d whistle for the pure sake of fear and antagonization if he didn’t want his new catch to scurry off like he knows he will. So he took each step with a form of care, looking where he could think to before noticing that the other had disappeared down the stairs, catching the top of his head and hearing his frantic breathing. Behind the mask, he smiled.

 

This is where he would feel right.

 

He followed him down, taking each step as light as a feather, keeping his distance, stalking, preparing. He followed the other down the stairs, watching as his new target stopped to marvel at his hooks in the middle of the basement. Oh, this couldn’t be  _ easier _ ! He crept up close, almost outright laughing as his target stood there none the wiser about his presence. 

 

He grabbed the target by the back of the neck, relishing in the yelp of terror as his prey realized he’d been found. “Let me go!” Geoff yelled. Oh good, it was Geoff. This would certainly be fun.

 

Ryan grinned mischievously behind his mask, turning Geoff around to place him up on the hook, relishing in the scream of pain and terror that ran through the room. The hook pierced Geoff’s flesh easily, and with how sturdy it was, it would hold him just as easy. He watched with glee as Geoff struggled in an attempt to get off the hook, to scramble to safety, just like they do in the movies. 

 

As if he stood a chance. 

 

They both knew that Geoff wasn't going to get out of this alive. 

 

Still, Ryan watched him struggle behind the mask, watched as he tried so hard to get free, to pretend like he really stood a chance against the killer in front of him. It was adorable, in a way, for him to think he could try and make it out of here. It sent warmth through Ryan’s heart. 

 

He decided that he'd waited long enough in letting Geoff squirm and struggle, the tears in his eyes showing the obvious pain and fear. Ryan had to admit, he was surprised Geoff hadn't pissed himself yet. “You never really did have guts,” he murmured to himself, soft and thoughtful. It was like he was recalling a distant memory.

 

But that sereneness disappeared the moment that Ryan lifted his weapon and swiped, opening up Geoff’s stomach and almost moaning at the sound of his insides hitting the floor. The screaming, the blood dripping, it was all music to his ears. He watched as Geoff tried to scoop up his intestines and try to keep them inside of him where they belonged, but it would be no use. Half of them were on the floor already anyway. 

 

Ryan chuckled then, tilting his head as if he was fascinated by the gory sight in front of him. He lifted his mask then to get a better look, and his smile only grew wider as he noticed Geoff’s eyes widen with fear and realization. He might be close to death, but he was awake enough to notice who inflicted all this damage. “You…!” Geoff tried, but death was coming fast, and Geoff was starting to choke. Blood speckled Ryan’s face as Geoff hacked, the blood warm and wet as the heavy droplets dribbled down his chin. 

 

Ryan tilted his head as though he was surprised by Geoff’s insides. He grinned in amusement, watching as Geoff struggled and hacked, bringing him closer to death with each shaky breath.“Hm,” Ryan hummed. “Seems I was wrong. You do have guts after all.” Ryan chuckled at his own joke, watching as the struggling got slower and slower, and finally, with the blood trickling down his chin and spilling across the floor, Ryan could see that the life in Geoff’s eyes was gone.

 

How nice it was to feel whole again. 

 

He lifted his weapon, marveling at the blood that stained the tool. It was warm and wet, and finally, it looked right, familiar. This was the beautiful little weapon he knew and cherished. 

 

He reached his hand up as he swiped off a drop of blood, and after glancing at it, swiped his tongue along the red liquid. The metallic taste lit up his taste buds, sending a spark of electricity through his body. He raised his hand then, taking hold of his mask before lowering it over his face again. 

 

He glanced up at Geoff’s body again, tilting his head, before he turned and left the basement, leaving Geoff to be found by… whoever else might be here. Who was Ryan to know anyway? 

 

He left the house then, hopping out of an open window and moving into the long grass of the field. “You look a little dirty,” he commented, looking over his weapon. “Let's clean you up.” Ryan wiped the blade in the grass, smearing the blood and getting some of it off. The weapon was made of a hard bone, one side with spikes and the other a blunt, kinda wide side. It was good for blunt force trauma, if Ryan really wanted to make it last. 

 

Ryan smiled, lifting it up again and looking over both sides. “Much better,” he cooed before continuing on throughout the night. The moon lit his path, and he followed on, listening and looking for his next kill. He had gotten a taste with Geoff, and now he wanted more. He wanted the thrill, the rush, watching the life leave their eyes.

 

He'd heard some rustling, and if his ears didn't fail him, that was the start of a generator, one of many scattered around this land. That meant that someone was close, and if he didn't get them in time, they would make it out. 

 

Now he can't have that, can he? 

 

He started to move closer, lowering his mask again and getting his weapon ready. He knew it was thirsty too. His footsteps were silent, slow and precise, choosing where to step so as not to alert his new prey. He could see them, in the distance. Two of them, crouched, none the wiser about Ryan’s knowledge of their whereabouts. 

 

Or so he thought.

 

Something must have tripped one, because suddenly, the two were up and running. Oh, a chase! The thought of running down the others, letting them think they have a chance of escape before Ryan inevitably caught up to them? Oh, it just sent electricity through his system!

 

Ryan followed the two, which he could now identify as Jeremy and Gavin, and he could almost taste their fear in the air. He loved it, the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of their inevitable doom. All of it. 

 

As he got closer to his targets, he realized that they became one, and he was chasing after Jeremy now. And Jeremy was even sprinting with all he had! How could Ryan pass this up? “Come on after me you bitch!” Jeremy yelled, and Ryan, with a smirk, hustled after him. Of course he was going to go after the obvious bait. Where would the fun be if he didn’t? 

 

He loved the horror on Jeremy’s face as he turned to look back at Ryan, as if he could prove himself intimidating. It was a shame that it was a swing and a miss, but Ryan assured himself it wouldn’t happen again. Jeremy may be smaller, but he was quicker, and he could dodge easily. 

 

It wasn’t until the second swipe did Ryan realize his mistake. While Jeremy’s scream of pain should have kept him interested, he realized he’d had an easier target back behind. Gavin had long legs, sure, but when struck by fear, that Brit wouldn’t know what hit him. So Ryan slowed to a stop, let Jeremy slip away, and retreated back the way that they came.

 

All he had to do was find Gavin. The moment he could, the faster his thirst would be quenched. 

 

He was hunting. He needed to be silent, he couldn’t scare them away. He’d reached around the area where Jeremy and Gavin had supposedly split up, and he knew he was on the right track. He found blood on the ground, wet, warm. 

 

Someone was here.

 

Ryan followed the trail, slowly, looking this way and that, trying to find any kind of sign that life was nearby. He was getting close to the trees when a loud bang caught his attention.

 

Now that’s what he’s talking about. 

 

He moved towards the sound, towards the sign of life. Gavin? Michael? Jack? Who knows who it could be?

 

His question was quickly answered as he noticed the mop of curls on top of Michael’s head. Perfect. Michael had his back turned to him, unsuspecting of the danger that was drawing nearer with every breath. He didn’t even notice until Ryan took his swing at him! Sadly, he missed, but that just made it more  _ fun _ . 

 

Ryan followed after Michael, laughing as the other cried, “Fuck off you crazy fuck!” Oh, classic. As if Ryan would miss this. He couldn’t just let Michael  _ go _ . What kind of killer would he be if he just let everyone  _ live _ ? 

 

Ryan almost laughed out loud as Michael made the same mistake as Jeremy, turning around in the wrong moment and causing his own injury. Ryan swiped, landing a good hit in Michael’s stomach. It was nothing compared to what he did to Geoff’s midsection, but it was a nice start. Certainly not enough damage, but a hit is a hit after all.

 

He let Michael go then, letting him believe that he was being chased, watching him run in fear. Finally he turned around again, moving towards his real prize. After this little altercation with Michael, Ryan can conclude that the blood he was following more than certainly belonged to Gavin. It'd be an easy kill, but it would have to do for now. He still had others that he could play with after all. 

 

He moved back towards the trees, towards the blood trail, and as he drew close, he could almost hear the erratic heartbeat of his prey. The poor thing wouldn't know what was coming. Michael must have been a distraction, something to draw Ryan away. It was a nice attempt, the man will say that much. But it wouldn't be enough. 

 

He did a little semi-circle around the group of trees from earlier, listening to the ragged breathing, smiling behind his mask as he closed in. He snuck closer, watching as Gavin turned in the opposite direction, looking for danger or a friend, whichever seemed to come first. Sure is a shame it was the former instead of the latter. 

 

Ryan lifted his weapon then, bringing it down hard over Gavin’s skull, reveling in the sickening crunch. Gavin looked like he'd been caught in a stupor after the first hit, but Ryan couldn't have just that. The second hit is what really did him in, the crunch just as prominent as before, but mixed with the sick slop of his weapon colliding with the brain. A bit of it exploded onto the tree behind him, tainting the bark a deep crimson red, looking black in the night time. 

 

The third hit was just for fun. Total overkill, absolutely, but fun regardless. “You did have brains in there after all,” Ryan mused to himself, watching as the blood ran down from Gavin’s beaten-in skull and dribbled down his neck to the rest of his body. Chunks of brain were on the bark as well. All in all, not too pretty to see.  

 

With his work done here, Ryan moved on out into the field, away from the trees. As he emerged, the unmistakeable sound of a door being opened sounded in the distance. Ryan’s eyes narrowed. Someone has escaped. He hadn't realized that so many of the generators had been turned on. Ah well, he supposed. Hopefully only one escaped and he still had more to play with. In that case, it was three down, two to go. 

 

Ryan made his way through the brush, looking this way and that for anyone new to play with. It was a shame he was left to two toys, but it was better than nothing, he supposed. He stalked through the grass, eyes and ears alert for anything that could possibly capture and hold his attention, even if only for a minute or two. He moved forward, humming to himself a soft little tune, something that could be considered haunting if he whistled it. The less noise he makes the better. 

 

He can’t say where he snapped. He can’t really say when the idea of blood seemed so beautiful as long as it’s running down his hands, when the horrified screams became music, or when the pain he caused only seemed to bring him joy anymore. He can’t really tell when it all happened. He can just say that god, he sure does love it.

 

He’s just about to make a turn when he notices someone, someone very much alive and well. They’re not too far ahead of him, and as Ryan draws closer, he notices it is someone he had yet to see.

 

Jack looks pale, like he’d seen a ghost, and he looked so vulnerable and like such an easy target that it almost pained Ryan to have a catch so easy. It makes him wonder what Jack had seen to make him look that way. Geoff, more than likely (or what’s left of him, he supposed). He would’ve seen Jack earlier if he’d been back by Gavin.

 

Jack was so blinded by his ghost that he didn’t see Ryan coming. 

 

The man enclosed his hand around the neck of the other, gripping tight, watching as he struggled and clawed at his hand. Ryan tilted his head, wondering why Jack would think he could even get close to getting away from this. Ryan would only track him down again, make this worse. Ryan could feel Jack’s windpipe being crushed beneath his fingers, and he figured that Jack should know who’s terrifying them all, who killed Gavin and Geoff, injured Jeremy and Michael, is about to do him in next. With his free hand he lifted his mask, taking it off in its entirety. He watched the surprise in Jack’s eye, watched the horror, the hatred, all before it drifted away as Ryan ended the standoff and crushed his windpipe.

 

He dropped Jack’s body, letting it slump to the ground as blood pooled around him. He looked up with a small frown as the sound of the second door being opened, signalling the release of another individual. He’d let two get away, but three out of five isn’t too bad. He’d had a few good chases. That’s what counted. 

 

Until the next time. 


End file.
